


a word that i can't forget

by notswitzerland



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Canon deviation, Character Study, F/M, HAPPY WIDOJEST WEEK, and jester, caleb calls people out because he cares, emotional manipulation and neglect ain't no joke, fjord is kind of a dick in this, sexual harassment mention, so is marion, they have their reasons, timeline is kinda jumpy cause i dunno how that thing do, unrequited pining OR IS IT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 14:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19770571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notswitzerland/pseuds/notswitzerland
Summary: Jester wants to be wanted. Caleb wants to know the truth.In the meantime, they dance.





	a word that i can't forget

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the lyrics of Matt Maeson's 'Dancing After Death'

Marion Lavorre was, as far as anyone could tell, _fine_.

A tad overworked from the rather daunting number of gold-decked mercenaries, a bit tired from what seemed to be party after party after _yet another_ merciless party, a touch worn thin from the near constant effort required to appear effortlessly beautiful, but still. Fine.

At least, that was what she told her daughter.

“Really, Jester,” she said. Her smile was sweet and disarming, but her tone was strained. “I have not seen any… Zemnian assassins who are ‘definitely shorter than you.’”

Jester twisted her hands. Her shoulders were tight, her tail twitching back and forth like an agitated cat, and there was a tiny crease between her brows. “Okay, and-”

“And while I’m sure I have seen some, ah… handsome wizards, I very much doubt any of them were the one you are so worried about,” Marion interrupted smoothly. That sweet smile stayed in place, but her eyes darted to an ornate clock positioned on the wall. The time read 6:08 in the evening, and Caleb recalled that the Ruby had a performance scheduled at 7.

Jester’s hands began twisting faster. Caleb was largely focused on the scene playing out in front of him, but the small part in the back of his brain that noticed things like the distinct smell of old parchment or the cool feeling of wet clay absently wondered about Frumpkin. Wondered if, perhaps, an orange and somewhat disdainful but still perfect cat-turned-vulture could somehow alleviate some of her tension. 

“Ya, but- but- what if they didn’t _look_ the way I described them, or something?” said Jester frantically. “I mean, they're _wizards_ , they know magic and stuff! And there are loads of spells that can make you look different- I know how to do it, Nott knows how to do it-” Jester made a wild motion towards where the rest of the Nein were gathered behind her.

“Oh,” said Nott, surprised. “Uh, yeah, do you want me to-”

“And like, maybe they were here, or are here, and you just don’t _know_. Have you had any really weird or scary guests? Like, someone who wanted to do magic on you, or wanted you to do magic on them, or- or someone who said they could only get off if they saw your handwriting, or they were like, _super_ into knife play or something, y’know?”

“Jester,” said Marion. Her smile, ever present, but her tone had turned sharp. “You know I can’t discuss my clients.”

Jester visibly deflated. A faraway look crossed her eyes, and Caleb was sure she was remembering the last client of the Ruby she’d gotten herself involved with- Lord Something Something. “Of course, Mama,” she began, eyes downcast. “You’re right, and I’m sorry.” She swallowed. The room was silent but for the ticking of the clock. Then, in a small voice, she said “...You’re sure you’re fine?”

Marion’s smile became soft and genuine. “I am, my sweet. It’s very kind of you to worry. And I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me,” said Jester, plastering a matching smile on her face.

Marion blinked slowly. Caleb wondered how often a woman like her had someone smile at her with forced cheerfulness. After a beat, she dipped her head. “Of course,” she said. “Now- I’m sorry to cut our conversation short, but I’m very busy and I have a show very, very soon, and I must finish getting ready.” she looked around the room, meeting each of their gazes in turn- Caleb, Nott, Beau, Fjord, and Caduceus. “You are, of course, welcome to attend, and to stay in the Chateau as long as you wish.” She looked back to Jester. “Perhaps, tomorrow, we can talk again? Of lighter things?” 

Jester softened. "I'd like that, Mama. There's been a lot that's happened lately…"

From somewhere near the door, Fjord cleared his throat. Caleb felt a spark of irritation run through him. _Can’t you see she needs this?_

“Uh- but we have to leave really soon,” said Jester. “We’ve got like a mission to do soon in a really far away place.” she bit her lip, and glanced back at the rest of the Nein. Fjord appeared to be trying to subtly move his hand over the door handle, Caduceus beside him, hands folded calmly and serenely in front of him. Beau was leaning precariously against an end table, arms crossed, but she nodded when Jester glanced over her. Nott gave her a thumbs up- or maybe the beginnings of a ward against be evil. Sometimes it was hard to tell with all the gnarled claws. Caleb smiled encouragingly at her. “But- hold on. I know you’re super busy, but this will only take a second. I want to talk about my dad, I want to show you something-”

Marion froze, and for a second, her smile fell. “Jester, my love,” she began.”I can’t talk right now. I have to get ready for the show.”

“ _No_ ,” said Jester insistently. She took a deep breath, reaching down to fumble with her holy symbol. “Mama, this is important. I’ve tried Sending him, and he doesn’t believe me. I can make myself look like him, and you can just say ‘yeah, that’s him’ and then I’ll know the truth and-” 

“ _Jester_ ,” snapped the Ruby, “stop.”

The smile had fallen from her face, her smooth shoulders tight with tension. Her golden, gleaming eyes were wide and something close to accusatory.

Jester stopped. 

Marion pursed her lips and swallowed thickly. When she spoke, her voice was shaky. "You talked to him? You… you told a powerful criminal that the Ruby of the Sea has a daughter?"

Jester nodded.

Marion's breath hitched. She blinked rapidly, and her painted mouth opened and closed as if she were unable to speak. She took a step backwards, away from Jester. A delicate hand lifted up to rest upon her collar bone as she turned her head away, eyes lowered.

"I don't have time to talk about this," she said softly. Barely audible, she whispered.

Caleb frowned.

“Okay,” said Jester numbly. “I’m sorry. We’ll leave now.” She turned and began to exit the room.

Fjord, impatient, wrenched the door open and hurried out. Caduceus followed slowly, and the rest of the Nein gathered by the door.

“Wait,” said Marion. She made a distressed noise. “Please, you don’t have to leave the city. Stay for the party.” She made her way across the room, graceful and quick, placing a gentle hand on Jester’s cheek. “I'm sorry. You know I love you, right? It is just- there is too much to talk about and I am very busy right now.”

Caleb looked over Jester’s head and met Beau’s gaze. She was frowning now too.

Jester was very still. “I know, Mama,” she said quietly. “I love you too.”

The words pulled at something in Caleb’s heart. He knows that the Ruby loves her daughter- even a blind man could tell just by standing in the same room for three seconds. Still, the tone, the matching smiles frozen on Jester and Marion’s faces- it all felt wrong. Love- it shouldn’t be said like that, like an apology, like someone begging for another to just _see things a different way_. Love shouldn’t be used as a way to excuse neglect and harshness and cruelty. He knew Jester was smart enough to understand that- but he also knew just how much Jester was willing to take at the hands of a loved one.

Nott gave Marion a stilted smile. “Thank you for the invitation,” she said, before practically fleeing the room. Beau gave Jester a long look, then left the room as well. Caleb hesitated, staring intently at Jester until she met his gaze, shaking her head in an almost unnoticeable motion. He glanced at the Ruby one last time, and exited the room with Jester hot on his heels.

* * *

Just under 26 hours ago, the Mighty Nein had been in the gleaming throne room of Rhosana, explaining the utter fucking mess- Beau’s words- that had occurred in the tomb under Bazzoxan and their subsequent... “plan” to deal with it. The Bright Queen had been less than pleased.

“You intend to leave the Dynasty,” she’d said. Her voice was as hard as the crystals that surrounded them.

“...We would return, as soon as we have what we’re gonna get from the Kiln,” said Fjord.

“You do not know what you will get from this Kiln,” she had said. “You do not know if it will help you defeat the threat that you helped unleash upon my people. You barely even know where this Kiln is.”

“Perhaps, if you gave us access to the Marble Tomes Conservatory, we could learn these things,” Caleb had ventured. “We know what we did. We want to help-”

“Enough,” said the Bright Queen. She held a hand up to her forehead, and took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Her gaze drifted over the Nein- still bloody, travel-worn and exhausted, minus one Yasha. “I know...you have told me one of your own was taken prisoner,” she said slowly. “I do not believe you would leave her behind. I do not believe you would truly abandon my people,” she sighed. “You have done great things for the Dynasty, but now you have done a terrible thing, unintended though it may have been. You will not be granted free access to the Conservatory. I will discuss what the next step will be with my council. The Shadowhand will learn what he can about the Laughing Hand and this... Wildmother’s Temple. He will contact you in a few days.”

“Understood,” said Fjord. Everything about him, from his voice to his posture, was drawn as tight as a bowstring.

The Bright Queen dismissed them, and the Nein quickly made their way out of the Cathedral.

“Well,” said Beau, “that could have gone a lot worse. Could’ve gone better, too, but. Still.”

“Okay,” Nott began. “So what are we doing? Are we just waiting at the Xhorhaus for her to, what, decide ‘the next step?’ Jester said they were still underground, but they could’ve gotten free by now. They could be on a rampage. They could be killing people. They could be making all kinds of orphans right now!"

“It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay,” said Caduceus soothingly. “We’ll just wait at the house for a few days, get some rest, restock our supplies, and when the Queen has learned what she needs to we’ll set out for the Kiln.”

“She seemed doubtful that the Kiln held the answers to stopping this,” observed Caleb, “Maybe she was right to be. We _don’t_ know anything about the Kiln, other than what your gut has told us- and while usually your gut is right, Caduceus, we should be prepared to go in another direction-”

“I want to see my mom,” said Jester.

There’d been a beat of silence among the Nein. Then,

“Absolutely not, Jester,” Fjord had said impatiently, “we don’t have time to laze around in Nicodranas.”

Jester flushed, but her gaze was defiant. 

“Fjord is right, Jester,” Caduceus had said gently. “In a couple days-”

“Hey,” Beau said sharply, glaring at Fjord. “Jester has every right to see her mom, don’t be a dick-”

“Yeah, she could be in trouble,” Nott said worriedly. “That letter we sent, maybe you should at least send her a message, check in and all.”

“I can take you to your mother,” said Caleb. Jester, flushed and stubborn and finally standing up for what _she_ wanted, was all that he could focus on. “I _will_ take you to your mother,” he repeated.

Jester’s expression seemed to melt, her brow smoothing out and mouth opening into an ‘o’ before settling into a smile. “Thank you, Caleb,” she said softly.

Caleb smiled timidly in return. He knew that he was looking at her too long, too fondly, that surely someone- Beau or Nott or, gods forbid, Jester herself would see the unforgettable truth of his affection on his face, but he couldn’t help himself. “Give me 24 hours,” he promised.

Jester’s smile widened.

Beau cleared her throat, clapping her hands together. “Okay then,” she said. “Nicodranas it is.”

* * *

24 or so hours and a series of quick near-nonsense messages to Yussa and the Ruby later, and the Nein were teleported into Yussa’s tower, immediately racing out into the streets of Nicodranas- “Can’ttalknowgottagoseeyoulaterthanksBYE-” to the Lavish Chateau and into the Ruby’s quarters.

Now, as Jester and Caleb exited the room, Caleb saw Fjord, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, foot tapping restlessly against the floorboards.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” drawled Fjord. “You guys heard her. She’s fine.” 

“You’re right, Fjord,” said Jester quietly. “I’m sorry for dragging you guys here for no reason.” Her expression was withdrawn and doubtful, violet eyes shining. Caleb wanted to comfort her- he wanted to summon Frumpkin and lay him scarf-style across her shoulders, but with creating the teleportation circle to Nicodranas he just hadn’t had the time to turn him back into a comforting cat-shape. 

Caduceus, standing next to Fjord, looked- surprised. Troubled. He was staring at Jester as if he was finally, _finally_ perceiving that she may not be as well-adjusted and happy as she pretended to be. 

Fjord, looking chagrined, let out a sigh. “I didn’t mean it like that- I just… let’s go.” He peered at Caleb. “You’ve got enough to get us back to Rhosana, yeah?”

Caleb shifted on his feet, rubbing the barely visible scars on his arm. He spared Fjord a glance before looking back to Jester. “It doesn’t work like that, exactly, and even if it did- I don’t think we should leave yet.”

“What?” Fjord asked.

Jester met his gaze evenly and forced a smile. “She’s busy. She doesn’t want to speak with us right now. And we have to get back to Xhorhas, anyway- It’s okay.”

Caleb took a deep breath, and stepped closer, reaching out to lay a hand on her arm. “Jester,” he said softly. “You don’t have to act like this.”

“Like what?” She questioned, her smile open and inviting.

He faltered slightly, but carried on. “You don’t have to act like things weren’t… tense back there,” he said. “You didn’t- you didn’t have time to talk about important things. You didn’t have time to really say goodbye, and… I don’t want you to regret not saying something.”

“Like you?” Jester responded, the smile finally dropping from her face. She stared at him, expectant and challenging.

Caleb felt all the blood drain from his face. He withdrew his hand, fingers shaking, and had to force himself to breathe.

Caduceus cleared his throat. “I agree with Mr. Caleb,” He said quietly. He was still staring at Jester, his expression regretful. “I don’t think we should leave just yet. Family is...important. Complicated. But important.”

Beau nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” Nott spoke up. “Also, did we ever tell your mother that Shakaste is bringing my son here?”

Silence.

“Um,” said Beau. “I mean. I think so? We must have. Uh, Caleb, did we- oh, dude, you’re looking kinda shit. Hey, how much sleep did you get last night? When was the last time you ate something?”

“No,” said Caleb weakly.

“Neither of those were yes or no questions. Let’s go sit down and get something to eat,” Beau declared.

  
Fjord sighed. “Alright, well, guess we’d better get some rooms for the night. I’ll take care of it.” He pushed off the wall and made his way downstairs. 

  
The others mumbled their assent, and Beau grabbed his shoulder roughly before pulling him through the halls of the Chateau.

He doesn’t pay any attention, instead looking back at Jester, standing alone in the hall outside her mother’s room, her cheeks flushed purple and her mouth twisted into a frown, her face tilted up towards the ceiling as she tries not to cry.

* * *

By the time the Mighty Nein found their way to the main floor of the Lavish Chateau, the festivities were in full swing. A band played lively, beautiful music, strings and percussion and brass working in tandem to do their part for the air of joy and excitement. The bar was surrounded by a virtually impenetrable wall of people, and patrons of all kinds laughed and talked and danced. Gold Chain mercenaries lingered along the outskirts of the room, clustered in two’s and three’s, while drunken sailors sang along to the music despite the fact that, in all likelihood, it did not have actual words. Pretty men and pretty women weaved their way effortlessly through the crowd, brushing coquettishly against the patrons, talking in sensual, lilting tones, whispering sweet nothings into blushing ears.

Beau dropped Caleb unceremoniously into a chair in a dark corner, disappearing into the crowd for several long minutes. Slowly, as if moving too fast might cause something in him to break, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and placing his hands against his temples. He studied the grains of wood and let the sounds of the party fade into white noise.

_I don’t want you to regret not saying something._

_Like you?_

She had to know. She had to know- what? That he’d killed his parents, that he’d hated them for their betrayal all the way up until the second he heard their screams? That he’d abandoned his friends, his lovers? That he planned to change it all- to erase his regrets-

That he was in love with her?

A plate of bread and meat and a tankard of something dark appeared in front of him. Beau grabbed a chair, twisting it so she could rest arms on top of the intricately carved back. 

Caleb slowly picked up the food, then realized he was starving. Beau said nothing, simply watched him with an interrogative look.

"Why are we here?" She asked. 

Caleb met her gaze. She looked- tired. Frustrated. Worn thin. A stab of pain went through his heart as he remembered the look on her face as they’d left Yasha in the temple under Bazzoxan. 

Nothing to be done about that now. He looked around the room to pinpoint the rest of the group. Fjord was standing against a wall, staring into a cup, looking troubled. Caduceus was staring forlornly at a potted plant. Nott was nowhere to be seen, but in a room full of tall, wealthy party-goers, that wasn't really something to be worried about. Jester was also nowhere to be seen- but he forcibly reminded himself that this was her home, and however broken up she might be over- well, over _everything_ that had happened since she’d last seen her mother, she could take care of herself.

He looked back to Beau. "Jester wanted to see her mother."

"Yeah," said Beau. "Jester wants a lot of things, though- and she deserves them, but. We just unleashed a deathless monster on Xhorhas. This isn't the time to be making visits to the other side of the continent, however awkward and tense they may be. And yet- you brought us here. You decided it was important enough for us to be here. Why?"

"She wanted to go," Caleb responded gloomily. "Maybe it wasn't the best time, but there might not be a better one. It's important for us to be here because it's important to Jester."

_Because Jester is important to me_. _Because I didn’t tell her the truth about my past and now she and her mother are in danger._

Beau gave him a long, measured look. With a sigh, she stood up and stretched, back popping. "I'm gonna go get drunk," she informed him. Before she turned away to lope off in the direction of the nearest source of hard liquor, in a low, barely audible voice, she said, "You should just fucking tell her, Caleb."

* * *

The Ruby made her way downstairs right on schedule. The dim firelight made her red skin glow, reflecting off the gold embellishments and blue and red crystals woven into her hair, on her throat, against her horns. She’d changed into an elaborate, sweeping gown that was the same deep, brilliant orange of a burning ember.

The Ruby paused at the railing for only a moment, searching the throng of people below with the tiniest of creases between her brows. A less perceptive person would’ve missed the way her shoulders seemed to droop. Caleb couldn’t bring himself to feel any pity. Sure, The Ruby of the Sea was a famed courtesan beloved by hundreds, if not thousands; but that didn’t mean she was untouchable- oh, _hell_ , that was how she’d gained her following, by being so sultry, so very, very touchable. She had no idea what the Scourgers were capable of- she had no idea of what _Astrid_ was capable of. The Ruby had just waved away Jester’s concerns as if she were still a child. 

As the Ruby thanked her patrons and launched into a song, the band swelling to meet her, Caleb couldn’t have cared less. 

After Beau had left to join the throng by the bar, he'd sat silent for several long minutes, staring at his feet and allowing himself to wallow in self pity.

Caleb Widogast was a selfish man. An unassuming, worthless, nobody. He was the kind of person a man like Trent Ikithon would willfully ignore, rather than acknowledge that someone of such low stature could exist in _his_ empire. He was supposed to be the kind of person who kept his heart guarded, who only ever took calculated risks, someone who would never, ever put themselves directly into harm’s for another person. Caleb Widogast was supposed to be the kind of man who kept his head low to the ground, an Amulet of Proof Against Detection around his neck like a chain binding him to his past, a spellbook in one hand and a transmutation stone in the other. He was supposed to stay alive long enough to reach the power of a god to change reality and _fix_ all of his _fucking_ mistakes.

He had been supposed to be so many things.

A good son. A hard-working student. A friend. A lover.

A loyal dog of the empire.

A scourger. 

He was a monster- that was the only word for it. He had betrayed every single person he’d ever loved- sure, there had been no other choice, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d just… left. He could have searched for Astrid and Eodwulf after he fled the asylum- but he hadn’t. He could've tried to track down the graves of his parents, if they even had them- but he _hadn't._

Caleb Widogast was a terrible person, and he had long ago accepted that fact. He didn’t need to be kind or selfless or loving in order to change reality- quite the opposite, in fact. When the time came, he couldn’t have any doubts. He didn’t need to be good- he just had to _be_.

Then he’d met Nott. Then Jester, and Beau, Fjord, Molly, Yasha, Caduceus- and everything started to change. He cared about his- his family, with all their crassness and loudness and easy acceptance of his secrets and his haunted figure. Even Beau, when he first told her of all the terrible things he’d done- she’d looked at him with pity. His stupid, stupid bargain in Dashilla’s Lair had earned him Fjord’s respect. Later, when his connection to the tragedy in Felderwin came to light- they’d all looked at him with gentle smiles. Jester had called him a good man.

Oh, _Jester_.

Jester was the catalyst to it all. Her smiles and relentless joy and the way she laughed while scratching dicks into holy statues made him forget about the fire and the empty years in the asylum. Her insistence on seeing the bright side, on seeing the best in people, it made him want to be selfless. It made him want to protect her. It made him want to be a good person, the kind of person she could rely on. Someone who would never leave her side. 

Jester Lavorre made him feel happy, and hopeful, and so, so heartbroken.

Jester Lavorre was a force of chaos and joy. Jester Lavorre loved everyone she met and made them love her in return.

Jester Lavorre would let a friend rip out her heart and stomp it into the ground so long as they remained her friend. She would smile, and she would not cry, and she would not be sad, or angry, or hurt. She would not feel any of those things, because those emotions were foul and made a person unpleasant to be around. Instead, she would pick up her scarred, lonely heart and offer it to her friend with an easy smile and a kiss on the cheek.

It almost scared him, at times, the way she slipped her mask on so easily. Other times it made him furious- is she blind? Can't she see how fucking precious she is? Jester is worth so much more than she believes, she helped create a god, she is the wisest and most brilliant person he's ever known. She was the sunlight in mortal form. She deserved to feel all that she could and put her needs before anyone else's, for once, and so often Caleb wanted to grab her shoulders and pull her close and _tell her_ and- and-

All Caleb _should_ have wanted was to focus on the impossible task of bending time and reality. 

But really, all he wanted was to give Jester everything she could ever need or want. And also maybe stop a war.

Caleb knows it’s a fantasy. He knows that, as much as he’s trying, he’ll never be the kind of person she deserves. Hell, when she finds out what he did to his family, when she truly understands the extent to which he abandoned and betrayed the people who loved him- _gods._

He’ll be lucky if she can even stand to be in the same room as him. 

He knows that Jester wants to know the truth of his past- but he also knows that she won’t press him for it, and he’s selfish enough to take advantage of that.

“Caleb,” yelled a thin, reedy voice in his ear. “Caleb.”

Caleb blinked out of his reverie. It had been some time since the Ruby arrived downstairs, but the party was still going strong; in fact, he’d say there were even more people dancing, shouting, and tossing back drinks like they’d just stumbled out of a sweltering desert.

He spared a glance towards where he’d last seen the others. Fjord had vanished, as had Caduceus, and Beau was sitting at the bar, deep in conversation with a messy-haired, grim-looking halfling woman wearing a grimy naval officers coat with what appeared to be a rapier and a lute settled at her feet. The woman threw back her head and cackled, placing a hand against Beau’s knee. Caleb quickly looked away, instead choosing to focus on Nott, who was currently leaning against his chair. Her pockets seemed significantly bulkier than when he’d seen her last.

“Nott,” he greeted. “Been busy, ja?”

Nott gave him a lop-sided grin. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You know it.” She yelled.

“Nott, I can hear you just fine.”

“Oh,” she said. She clambered on to a chair next to him, crouching with her elbows resting on her knees and her hands steepled in front of her. “How are you doing? I saw Beau got you something to eat, but you’ve hardly touched your alcohol.” 

Caleb cracked a smile. “I’m fine, Nott. Thank you for your concern.”

She peered at him, a worried expression clouding her face. “That teleportation spell took you 24 hours to prepare,” she observed, “and you started on it as soon as we got back to the Xhorhaus. You haven’t slept in over a day.”

Caleb grimaced. “I am a little tired, ja.”

Nott was silent. “Listen,” she said slowly, “I know you care about Jester…”

Of course she’d noticed. Nott was one of, if not _the_ most perceptive person he knew. “But,” she continued, “it’s not healthy to forget basic human needs like food and sleep in order to make another person happy. You need to take care of yourself before you take care of someone else.”

“You sound like my mother,” said Caleb softly.

“Well,” said Nott, unscrewing her flask, “I am a mother.” She punctuated the end of her sentence with a drink.

“You’re also my friend,” he responded. “How are _you_ doing?”

Now it was Nott’s turn to grimace. “I’m okay. I’m worried about my son. I’m worried about Yeza, and you, and Yasha, and Jester. And the rest of the group, the letter we sent to Astrid, our status as ‘Heroes of the Dynasty,’ the war, religion, my shortened goblin lifespan, that time I saw a llama get beheaded, the list goes on…”

“At least there’s alcohol,” said Caleb.

Nott nodded sagely. “At least there’s alcohol.”

Caleb leaned forward intently. “I’m going to get your body back, Nott,” he said gravely. “I’m close.”

“I know,” said Nott. This time her smile did reach her eyes. “I know. You made a promise and I trust that you’ll keep it.”

Caleb looked at her solemnly and gave her a nod. A companionable silence fell between them.

“Would you look at that,” said Nott, in the casual tone of someone commenting on the weather. _What a lovely day we're having. As you can see, temperatures in the Abyssal Plane are expected to hit a high of 666 degrees Celsius and there's a slight chance of demonic portals opening up over Assarius._ She was staring out over the celebration. “Jester seems to be feeling better.”

Caleb quickly followed her gaze. There in the center of the crowd, blue skin shiny with sweat and inky hair curling wildly around her face, was Jester. She was dancing to an erratic, fast-paced song with a slender, golden-skinned figure with white hair that seemed to float lazily above their head like a cloud across a summer sky. Her head was thrown back into a wild laugh, purple skirts whipping around her. As he watched, Jester twirled away from her partner, who laughed and clapped their hands when she bumped into a statuesque elven woman in a red strappy gown. The elf glanced back with an annoyed scowl, pushing herself away while Jester shimmied her way between two gold-decked mercenaries and into the arms of a tall, muscular, yellow-haired orcish woman with an undercut and a sunny smile.

Caleb tried to smile at the sight, but he couldn’t shake the sense of _wrong_. By all rights, Jester seemed to have completely forgotten her earlier strife and thrown herself headfirst into a night of joy and debauchery. But there was something manic about the way she moved, her grin a bit too sharp-toothed, her eyes a bit too hypervigilant. 

“Maybe,” he murmurs.

Beside him, Nott cleared her throat. “So, that whole thing with her mother earlier,” she says. She seems to struggle to find the words she wants to say, finally settling on “Wild, right?”

Caleb just looks at her, clasping his hands between his knees before giving a curt nod.

“Someone should probably talk to her later,” said Nott nonchalantly. She was methodically looking around the room at everything except for him. “She’d probably really appreciate it.”

Caleb chose to remain silent.

“Just saying,” said Nott.

Caleb gave her a long look, and prepared himself-

-when a sudden _shriek_ sounded from the throng of people.

Caleb stood up with a jolt, his hand already straying to his pockets for components, ready to cast a _slow_ spell. His heart was racing, cold sweat dripping down his spine, a sickening feeling taking hold in his stomach and his head. _We were wrong, it’s her, she’s here they’re here-_

Rather than a ghost in his past, he was met with the sight of a tearful, mortified, mostly nude elven woman in the middle of a crowd of drunken mercenaries. 

“Oh, _no_ ,” said Nott from behind him, sounding dismayed.

A mix of laughter and cat calls sounded, and leering eyes worked their way over her figure as she struggled to simultaneously pull her dress up- evidently a number of the ties had come loose- and also cover herself from the lecherous gazes. A feeling of sympathetic horror came over Caleb. Before he could do anything, however, a number of Chateau workers manifested themselves around the woman, helping her with her gown and shepherding her away to some secret chamber.

Caleb struggled to slow his still racing heart, clenching a fist at his side. He nodded his head once, collected himself, and spared a glance around the room for Jester. She was nowhere to be found.

He headed off towards the upper levels of the Chateau. 

“Where are you going?!” cried Nott.

“To talk to Jester,” he called back.

* * *

He found her on a secluded balcony on the second floor of the Chateau. Double doors spilled warm light onto the dark stone; potted plants stood watch on either side of the entrance and in the corners of the balcony, and vines twined their way through the railings. Music and hedonism fought with the night-sounds of Nicodranas, and the dim lights and the hulking outlines of buildings stretched out towards the sea; in the distance, a full moon reflected off calm, languid waves. 

Jester stood with her back to him. She’d stripped out of most of her clothes, standing barefoot on the balcony in her purple, off-shoulder dress and leather corset. Her hair had fallen out of its bun, the humidity making it curl loosely and wildly around her horns and against her neck. Her blue skin glowed under the moonlight, highlighting the muscles of her back, her shoulder blades. 

Caleb had to remind himself that he’d come to confront her, not to stare entranced at her beauty.

She swayed with the breeze, humming lightly. Her face was turned up towards the sky, and she seemed to be waiting for something. Or _someone_.

He awkwardly cleared his throat, running a hand along his forearm. Jester started, glancing over her shoulder with a wide grin.

“Oh! Caleb. I’m so glad you’re here,” she said brightly. Before he could respond, she’d darted towards him, grabbing his wrists and yanking him onto the balcony.

“Ah- Jester. Careful,” he said with a wince, attempting to gently extract himself from her grip.

She laughed, twisting her head to look out across the city. “Isn’t it such a beautiful night? It really is a great party,” she gushed. She jerked her head back to him, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her eyebrows arching up and down excitedly. Her hands moved rapidly and expressively through the air to emphasize her words. “Have you and everybody else been having a good time? I know I have. I don't know if you saw, but I danced with this really cool lady, she was _super_ tall- oh! And I rearranged all the food and stuff so it was in the shape of a massive dick. The balls were made of pastries. It was _pretty good._ "

"Jester-"

"By the way, where’s Frumpkin?” she changed the subject in a manner far too abrupt to be unintentional.

Caleb almost snapped Frumpkin into existence at the mere mention of the precious boy, but he was 100 percent certain Jester had only brought him up to distract him. Now, close up, he could see a vaguely feral glint in her eyes, and he was abruptly reminded of the very _fey_ nature of her god. 

“He’s in his plane right now,” answered Caleb.

“Oh.” Jester pouted, reaching up to tease her fingers down his arm. He felt his cheeks turn red. “That’s disappointing. I like having him around, and I know _you_ like having him around...”

“I, um, came up here to talk to you,” interjected Caleb before she could ask a question or burst into another story. “You’ve seemed… off, since your talk with your mother.”

Jester laughed. What an _absurd_ statement. “Caleb, that’s very sweet but I am _fine._ ”

“I would understand if you weren’t,” Caleb replied gently.

Jester seemed to calm, and her gaze turned soft. Caleb felt himself begin to marginally relax. She looked away from him, head lolling to the side, form swaying. “Can you hear the music? It’s so pretty.” Her voice was wistful.

“It is,” said Caleb.

Jester turned back to face him, expression thoughtful, before her cheeks split into a wide grin. She grabbed his hands eagerly. “Do you want to dance?” she questioned. “You were super drunk last time, so I think you owe me one,” she hedged.

“Jester,” he said haltingly, attempting to distance himself. She didn’t stop smiling, but a slight crease appeared between her brows as she glanced down. 

Caleb hesitated for only a moment. “...I would love to dance with you,” he said with a smile.

Jester giggled, and once again, the joyful expression on her face appeared genuine.

Caleb bit his lip. Jester watched him like a hawk, anticipatory and pleased. He carefully, slowly placed a hand against her back, feeling the warmth of her skin and the strength of her muscles through the fabric- _strong woman,_ he thought dizzyingly _-_ and she stepped close, one hand rising to rest delicately on his shoulder and the other twining with his own. He counted out the measures in his head- one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two three- and led them into a waltz.

He wasn’t sure if it was simply because he was mostly sober or if they’d actually grown close enough to know each other’s movements before they made them, but dancing with Jester was easy as breathing. She met his every motion- she followed where he led. When she twirled, her skirts flew against his legs. Her hand was warm and light against his own despite the coolness running through her veins, and her body came soft and pliant when she returned to his embrace. She was utterly bewitching, her flushed cheeks and bright eyes burning him up. 

He thanked the gods the dance came so instinctually, because he was quickly losing all train of rational thought. It was so _easy_ to lose himself in the way she gasped and laughed, in the crinkled corners of her eyes, in the way she smelled and moved against him. He could have basked forever in the brilliance of her smile.

The music swelled, and the look in her eyes was pleading and desperate. Her smile was beautiful but jagged.

The music slowed, and Jester’s cheerful, playful mask slid back into place. Caleb felt his throat close up; he kept his arm against her back, continued the dance even as the rhythm of the music changed. Jester kept her eyes trained on his.

“That thing you did,” said Caleb, “to the elven lady. That wasn’t very nice.”

Jester hummed, and her teeth glinted when she grinned. “But it _was_ funny.”

“Was it?” he asked. “You didn’t wait to see the fallout.”

Jester’s eyes narrowed, but her smile didn’t crack. “Maybe I wanted to be alone.”

“Did you?” Caleb questioned. He paused for emphasis before continuing. “You left her in a crowd of drunken men. She was terrified. She was crying.” 

A waver.

“Did it make you feel better?”

Her smile fell, and her eyes burned a hole somewhere beyond his ear. She went quiet for a long, long moment. He felt terribly guilty.

One, two, three, one, two, three.

“No,”she mumbled. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, inspecting his collar as if it held the secrets of the universe. Her expression was pained. “It didn’t.”

Caleb slowed their footsteps, taking them from the quick-footed waltz to a slow simple sway back and forth, back and forth, giving her the choice to end their dance. She didn’t- instead, she pulled herself even closer, their breasts pressed tight against the other, sliding her hand across his shoulder to rest on the back of his neck. The heat of her palm made him shiver; it made him wonder at the feel of her lips and the taste of her skin. His heart was pounding. He felt like he was on _fire_.

“I don’t want to argue with you,” he whispered back.

Jester pursed her lips before raising her head to look him in the eye, shaking her head slightly and biting her lip. Her tone was pleading, and she looked close to tears. “And what do you want?”

_Do you want_ me _?_

The question was so unexpected that it took the breath from his lungs and left him staring at her, flushed and speechless. In that moment, there were so many, many things that he wanted. He wanted to stroke her hair and tell her that he loves her; he wanted to spill his guts and burden her with the horrors of his past. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to push her against the wall, drop to his knees and hitch her skirts up around her hips and _lap_ at her until she forgot all of her troubles. He wanted to hold her close and never leave; and the way she _looked_ at him, all messy-hair and doe-eyes and parted lips, didn’t help _at all._

One, two, three.

“I want you to be honest,” he said. “I want you to ask your mother the questions you came here to ask. I want you to tell her the things you need to tell her.”

Jester continued to watch him. Her expression began to close off, and her eyes flickered down to his collar bones. The moment passed.

Jester breathed, deep and slow. She jolted in his arms as a sudden low, airy laugh worked its way out of her. When she met his gaze again, her eyes were shining.

“I think,” said Jester liltingly, “that the things you want me to say to her are things that I’ll regret saying.”

“Then you don’t have to tell her,” Caleb replied. “Tell me.”

Jester smiled sickly sweet, peering up at him through fluttering lashes. “Nope.”

Something snapped inside his chest. 

“Fine,” he said, “Fine. Then just tell me if I’m wrong.” Caleb took a deep breath, and their dance finally slowed to a halt. They’d stopped moving, but Jester maintained her grip on his nape and his hand. Her expression was unreadable. 

A night breeze rustled through the city, though Caleb barely felt it. Music and laughter trickled out onto the balcony of the Chateau, the dim light from the open door illuminating the freckles across Jester’s cheeks and the arch of her brow.

“I think you make excuses for her. I think you make excuses for all of us,” he began in a low voice, “because it’s better to be surrounded by people who lie and manipulate and hurt you than it is to be alone, forgotten and discarded like an unimportant bauble.”

Jester stared at him. Her eyes were wide and her chest was heaving, her mouth drawn into a thin line. Her face had gone pale. She was so close that he could feel her heart pounding out a rhythm fast enough to match his own. 

“You’re _wrong,_ ” she said. “You’re wrong. _Fuck you._ ” Her voice was trembling and thick with anger, and Caleb recalled with a sudden clarity the last time he heard her sound so furious. _I might never see my mom again._

“My mom loves me,” began Jester. “I know she loves me, but she’s sick. She did the best she could to raise me- and yeah, I have felt so, so, alone for my entire life- and _yes_ , it hurts, and it makes me angry, and scared, and- and sad.” Her face had become pinched, and she was glaring at him with glassy eyes. 

Her voice cracked. “But I know my mom loves me with every part of her being, because- because I’m all that she has. I am all that she loves. And that makes me feel so _guilty_ and so _selfish_ because it’s not enough.” 

She stopped. Her cheeks were slick with tears and she gripped the collar of his coat like a lifeline.

“It’s never enough. It’s like there’s this black hole inside me that sucks in all the love and happiness around me- and I hate it, and I have to hide it by being friendly and joyful and selfless all the time and if I stop, people will see what I really am. They’ll see how I’m not- important, I’m not worth their time. And I’ll be alone again, not because of them- because of _me_.”

Oh.

_Oh._

The words left her in a rush, as if once she started she couldn’t stop. Once she was done, however, she went completely quiet, looking numb and dazed, as if struck by a sudden revelation.

There was a beat. Caleb’s world had narrowed down to the woman in front of him. A million thoughts raced through his head. His heart crumpled at the way she talked about herself. He mentally berated himself- he'd seen so much, he'd seen the way her gleeful joy was just a mask but he hadn't seen how deep her pain went, how could he be so _stupid_ -

This wasn’t about him. This was about Jester.

He lifted his shaking hands and placed them gently against the sides of her face, rubbing the blackened tips of his thumbs along tear tracks and freckles like stars.

“Jester,” he whispered her name like a prayer, “Jester.”

He swallowed thickly and licked his lips. When he spoke, his voice came out gravelly. “Jester, feeling anger and pain and grief and wanting to be loved does not mean there is a black hole inside you. It means that you’re a person.”

He paused to let himself breathe.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time. Your mother loves you. _We_ love you.”

_I love you._

“We will support you and stand with you through anything. We’re a family, and that means we stick together, always- especially when someone is hurting,” he whispered, “and when you think that you don’t matter, when you think that someone will leave you if they really see you, I want you to remember this.” He paused. Stroked a thumb along her cheek. 

“You are _important_ , and as long as I’m alive, I will _never_ let you be alone,” he promised.

His chest felt heavy with the unsaid words, a wave of self-loathing looming in the distance, but right now all that mattered was Jester, looking at him, tears dripping silently, a sudden understanding in her eyes. Her lips were parted as she nodded. She hiccuped once, twice, before bursting into full body sobs and burying her face against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her in a hug, held her tight, and prayed to every god he could name that she _knew_.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, what's- do you hear that? In the distance? That's me, banging pots and pans together and screeching at these two to fuCKING TALK ALREADY-
> 
> Yeah. Thanks for reading, and happy widojest week.


End file.
